There are three little words <br />that did not emerge <br />when the crisis arrived <br />like a flock of black birds, <br />though that morning heard a vocabulary <br />of thousands of meaningless bits <br />as she went down the stairs I only whispered 'Mary' <br />but she left for a new world, of glamour and glitz. <br />She was tired of mucking the cowbarn and more, <br />was no farmer, this girl, born and bred in the city <br />I am sure that I was, to her, just a big bore <br />now I lost my best worker, which is a great pity. <br /> <br />Well, today I have come to the simple conclusion <br />that she would have, I could have, we should have stayed close, <br />if I had at the time known that utter illusion <br />is to love like lifeblood and the reason she chose <br />to just walk out that day and never turn back, <br />is the lack of the wisdom contained in my head <br />as they sat on my tongue as I watched Mary pack <br />and those three little words, they were never said.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/those-three-little-words/
